The Legend Of The Immortals Original Work by JWH
by QuantumN0VA
Summary: In a village split in half both literally and figuratively. A hero must rise to lead. But a hero, young Macen is not. He's not a killer or a fighter or even brave most of the time. He's a slacker. He's not looking to end a revolution or lead one. He just wants to take a nap. But in a situation where it's kill or be killed, will he rise to the occasion and fight?


_The Legend Of The Immortals_

_by J.W. Hartshorn_

Bridgetown, it's beautiful scenery of the snow-white mountaintops and the beautiful clear waters of the river which splits the village itself in half, connecting itself with seveal bridges, thus giving its name.

Many heroes hailed from Bridgetown, like Sir Kendris Thorngrim, and the Great Jernerith Launburg, but this story isn't about either of those steely heroes who've roamed the lands facing peril at their own risk and basking in the spoils of their hard-work. No, this is a story of a slacker. A slacker who dreams to be the next hero. A slacker named Macen.

_-Prologue: The Smell Of Ashen Dreams-_

"Macen!" A familiar voice whispered sharply. "Get up already. It's time to go."

Macen's hand reached up to swipe at whatever had disturbed him from his slumber, but instead his hand was caught and bent sharply backwards, pulling his consciousness completely out of it's rabbit hole.

"What the f-!" Macen exclaimed in pain, only to see a red-haired, pale-faced girl he had known for nearly his entire life. "Calissa? What in God's name are you-!"

He started to yell but she forced her palm down upon his lips, removed her hand from his wrist and put a finger to her lips meaning to stay quiet.

The light clickety-clack of a pair of heels slowly came up the steps outside the room, sending Calissa into a panic and she dropped to the floor and rolled under the bed but not before slamming her head into the metal frame and letting out a small wince. Macen quickly laid back down and feigned sleep while genuinely hoping it'd put him back to sleep in the process.

The door creaked open, a middle-aged woman peered into the room, seeing Macen wrapped in a white blanket which had the words, 'North Bridgetown Orphanage' etched into the fabric which was itchy to the touch. She looked around closer but then shut the door quietly and the clickety-clack of her shoes departed down the steps again.

"Macen. I've come to save you." Calissa whispered. Her hand slapped him awake as he was dozing back into his well-wanted slumber. "We need to go, my brother will meet us at Khorenstone Bridge, he's got horses and gold, we need to go."

"Moregan is here? Is it really that bad?" Macen instantly realized the dire straits of which that Calissa was meaning. For nearly a year now, the Lord of Bridgetown had begun implementing a new law where children in their teens, boys and girls both, were forced to join the military forces charged with defending the city. "Calissa, you both need to get out of town. I should probably stay here so they don't accuse you two of kidnapping me."

Calissa reaches forward and slaps his face again hard. "I'm not letting you die." She grabbed a cloth sack and emptied it to put in a few changes of clothes. "Your dreams are not turning to ash, I promise you."

The orphanage was quiet, enough that the distant echoes of the woman's clickety heels could just faintly be heard. Calissa hands motion silently that they are in the clear and they slow open the door which screeched noisily for a split second, but then nothing. No movement. They proceeded down the stairs and out of the orphanage, down the streets and were nearing the rendevous at the bridge when they heard a pair of voices moving closer, ever closer to trapping them. Macen lunged forward to grab Calissa's arm but she was barely out of his reach.

"Well..." One of the voices, a voice sounding like an older man, perked up from a monotonous conversation. "Look what we got here." His companion let out a sharp wolf whistle.

"A young girl. Do your parents know you're sneaking off late at night?" The companion whose face was half-lit by the full moon which hung above in the crisp night sky spoke in a deep voice with a bit of a South-Bridges accent.

Macen stood there, enveloped by a shadow as the men slowly closed in on Calissa, who slowly began to step backward, her hands searching for anything solid to defend herself with. Macen shook in terror, incapable of willing himself to move as her hand slightly touched his arm, he felt a surge of adreneline and leapt forward.

"Die!" Macen screamed as his fist just barely glanced off the first man's face and the man quickly threw his fist into Macen's chest, forcing him to fall back and gasp for the air which had been knocked from his lungs. He looked back to see Calissa and without much capability to speak he barely let out the word, "Run."

Calissa kept moving back, constantly searching for something. something hard, that could do damage. Her hands scraped the brick wall which felt like it gently scraped a thin membrane of her skin off until something caught her attention. Behind the men, a reflection that bounced onto one of the walls of the alley. Her fingers felt the cold, smooth surface of a bottle and in an instant, she swung it from the neck of the bottle and struck the first man's head, sending him to the ground and a spot of blood formed around his head.

Macen looked up, a tall man stood above him. As Calissa struck the man closer to her, a spray of blood coated Macen's face as the end of a sword stuck out three inches through the chest of the man standing above him.

"Like always, having no problem finding trouble I see?" A young man spoke as he placed his boot upon the back of the man and kicked forward with his feet to rip the sword from the man's chest. "Callie? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Moregan. Nothing to serious. Is Macen okay?" She dropped the bottle and kicked the man she had struck before stepping over his body and grabbing Macen off the ground.

"He'll live." Moregan groaned as he lifted Macen and carried him to a horse with chestnut hide. It danced upon the ground restlessly and whinied anxiously. A wafting aroma of smoke mingled through the air, lightly getting more dense with each passing second. "We have to get out of here. Right now."

"What's wrong?" Calissa spoke calmly, a strict contrast to her brother's anxious, hurried tone. "Does it have to do with all the protesting about the law earlier?"

Moregan's face grew to a grim expression as he held out a flier which read, "Take Back Our Rights!" He wiped the blood from his blade and slid it into his leather sheath.

"The revolution is starting. Our home is no more."


End file.
